Dreadlocks, hemp shoes and vegan pizzas abound. We had reached San Cristobal de las Casas on our travel-as-fast-as-we-could-from-one-side-of-Mexico-to-the-other extravaganza.
Or something like that.
I had read passing mention in guide books and on the internet that San Cris (as the locals and cool kids call it) was a haven for hippies or “Trustafarians”, as one guy at our hostel liked to call them. This is because many of the hippies who live here are young and come from fairly rich families, but instead have decided to throw off the shackles of normal society and live off their trust fund in a nice sunny place where they can grow their dreadlocks in peace without having to explain to there parents why they haven’t started their career in investment banking yet.
Or something like that.
Having had no prior expectations of San Cristobal and not having really done my homework, I was pleasantly surprised at how pretty this town was. Pastel-coloured churches seemed to sit on every street corner and the cobbled streets, although lined with touts and street-sellers, were relatively calm.
Homely Hostels and Hot Chocolate
Our hostel was a quiet little oasis of hammocks and people strumming guitars and I was far too giddy about the fact that the town reportedly had good Lebanese food (having not had a hummus fix since Belgrade).
I can’t say I did much in San Cristobal. I worked and I ate. I didn’t go on any day trips, mainly because I was so tired from the aforementioned “extravaganza”.
But I did try traditional Mayan hot chocolate, handmade chocolates and a chocolate frappe for the first time and damn, were they good. I don’t know the meaning of overkill, just in case you were wondering.
I also managed to climb a lot of steps (a feat after all that chocolate) to watch the sunset from in front of Guadalupe Church; a striking church perched atop the town on a hillside.
San Cristobal de las Casas was the kind of place I usually dread (no pun intended) visiting, mainly because I tend to dislike places which are filled with cynical sun-wrinkled expats and hippies selling homemade sofa throws.
But you know what? I actually quite liked it.
I ate a veggie burger, sat awkwardly in a retro bar with uncomfortable seats while the bartender attempted to make me a margarita (I guess that isn’t a very Trustafarian thing to drink) and even found myself admiring some homemade bags and shoes in one of the gift shops.
Don’t get me wrong – I won’t be investing in any harem pants or not washing my hair any time soon.
But I can see why so many people would want to spend their days in a town like San Cristobal. It’s surrounded by mountains, the weather is perfect (warm and sunny during the day and cool and crisp in the late evenings and early mornings) and there is plenty of choice when it comes to nightlife and restaurants.
Just don’t order the margarita.
Other Mexico Posts:
The Eerily Beautiful Lake Patzcuaro
Mexico: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
Margaritas and Meltdowns on Isla Holbox
I Hugged A Honey Bear, And I Liked It
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